But Maxton was having none of William’s bigger-picture rationale. He was looking at the woman in the middle of it, not the king she would be saving as she spied upon a very deadly Mother Abbess. To him, the very suggestion was ludicrous.
There had to be another way.
“She isnota spy,” Maxton snapped. “She is a pledge, a simple woman. She does not have the skills for this, nor the experience. She will get herself killed spying for you.”
There was an accusation there, slung at William at full velocity, but the man didn’t flinch. There wasn’t much he flinched at these days. It was just past sunset, and Farringdon House was lit up with candles and fires, projecting light into the darkness of night that had settled. The smells of the evening’s meal wafted on the breeze, tantalizing those who were ready to eat. Mostly, that meant William, his retainers, and the knights who were in residence that night but, at the moment, the feast would have to wait.
Everything would have to wait.
Kress, Achilles, Alexander, and Gart were witness to the brewing storm. Gart had been out most of the day with the de Lohrs, as he served David these days, but he’d returned to Farringdon House to see how Maxton’s plans were coming along only to run headlong into what seemed to be a very angry confrontation between William and Maxton. Kress had filled him in on the reasons behind it, through swift whispers, and now Gart stood on the fringes of the chamber like the rest of them, watching Maxton and William hash out the situation, hoping they weren’t going to have to pull Maxton off of the old earl at some point.
It was a tense circumstance to say the least.
“What you do not seem to realize is that she is already in danger,” William said. “Sending her back where she belongs is safer for her in the end because they will not suspect that anything is amiss. They will not know she has told you of their plans. But if she stays away any longer, I am sure they will become suspicious. You told me that she left the abbey to deliver laundry to a noblewoman here in town?”
Maxton nodded his head, his jaw ticking. “Aye,” he grumbled. “She delivered garments to Lady Hinkley. Andressa is the laundress at St. Blitha.”
“Then send her back,” William said sternly. He wasn’t used to meeting with opposition from a man who served him, so his patience was thin. “Maxton, you do not seem to realize that this is not your decision to make. The pledge has given us a great gift. What we were expecting you to solve in weeks, or months at most, she has solved for us in one day. Do you not understand that? Therefore, she will return to St. Blitha where she shall continue to administer her duties and watch the happenings. If there is a new development, she will let us know immediately.”
Maxton looked at William; he knew the man was legendary. That was an indisputable fact. But he was also ruthless, manipulative, and controlled those around him as a man would control his pieces in a chess game. To William, life itself was a great game of skill, plotting, and chance, and he used those under his command accordingly. In this case, Andressa was to become a pawn, and there was nothing more to it than that. She was a means to an end.
No heart.
No emotion.
Normally, Maxton would have agreed with the man, especially where it pertained to a woman, but he couldn’t quite reach that state of apathy when it came to this particular woman. He didn’t want to see Andressa caught up in a game that would more than likely kill her.
“So you would throw her to the wolves,” he snarled, turning away because he was sincerely afraid of losing control if he didn’t. “She did not have to come to me, Pembroke. She could have easily kept it to herself, but she didn’t. She came to me because of her concern for John and for no other reason thanthat. She did the right thing and now you would punish her for it by making her return to that pit of vipers.”
William could have risen to his anger but, instead, he found himself truly baffled. “What does it matter?” he asked. “Maxton, what is this girl to you that you would defend her so rabidly?”
Maxton turned to look at him, a frown on his face. “That should be obvious,” he said. “She has just saved the king’s life. Does she not deserve our protection for it?”
William sighed sharply, his patience gone with Maxton’s compassionate reply. “Where is this pity coming from?” he said with disgust. “This is not the assassin I was told was the best in the world. What I am hearing is an old woman, bleeding sorrow and mercy all over the place. Where is your courage, Loxbeare?”
Now, the insults were becoming personal and Maxton stiffened. “Would you really like to find out?”
It was a threat and they all knew it. This was no longer just a tense discourse but threatening to turn into something violent. But William simply displayed a humorless smile.
“Mayhap. It would prove to me that you are not the fool I take you for.” Suddenly, he slammed his fist on the table before him. “The only thing that matters is the king. Not you, not me, and certainly not some inconsequential pledge. Send that girl back to St. Blitha and tell her to inform us if anything changes. But if it will make you happy, should she perform well in this instance, I will reward her greatly. Will that satisfy you?”
It was nearly a sarcastic question. Had anyone else spoken to Maxton in that tone, he would have ripped their head off. In fact, Kress and Achilles, who were standing nearby, each took a step in Maxton’s direction. He was bigger, taller, heavier, and stronger than William, so physically he could have very much overpowered the old man.
But no one wanted to see that, probably not even Maxton. William was heaping insults on him that were more thanlikely justified, given the fact he was sparing some concern for a woman he didn’t even know. But the fact remained that Maxton had little control once he was pushed over the brink, so when Kress and Achilles moved towards him, Gart began casually moving for William, preparing to put himself between an enraged Maxton and the old earl. It wasn’t an ideal spot to find himself in, but he was prepared nonetheless.
Fortunately, Maxton didn’t move in William’s direction, though it was clear he wanted to. He held his ground, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Define reward,” he rumbled.
William realized he had probably pushed Maxton to the breaking point in this situation, but he didn’t much care. “Nay,” he said. “I will let you define it. Whatever you want to reward her with, I shall grant, so let her reward come from you. For now, I want her taken back to St. Blitha before they wonder why she had been gone overly long. The longer she remains here, the more she jeopardizes her position there. Is this in any way unclear?”
Maxton was grinding his teeth so hard that he was certain he’d chipped a tooth. “It is clear.”
With that, William eyed the man as if to emphasize his position in the situation. The truth was that he didn’t know Maxton well; everything he knew, he knew from Gart and the de Lohr brothers. They had painted a picture of a stalwart, obedient knight who had a dark streak in him. William could believe the part about the dark streak, but the part about obedience had him questioning whether it was true or not.
Time would tell.
“Good,” William said. “Now, I intend to send word to Sean so he is aware of this latest development. It seems that, mayhap, assassins will not be stalking the king when he goes on his huntoutside of Windsor tomorrow, but I would suggest you still tail the man, just in case.”
